He Who is the Best
by See No Dum-Dums
Summary: As Faramir son of Denethor lies unconscious in the Houses of Healing, he ponders on his failure to defend Gondor as compared to his brother Boromir, whom he regards as Gondor's best man.  Yet a sudden presence tells him that perhaps things stood otherwise


Heh. My first LOTR fanfic!

Disclaimere: I owneth not Lord of the Rings. Hath I owneth it, the Lord Faramir wouldst perhaps haveth been king of Gondor.

A/N to eiluj:

Oops! I failed to clarify! (Sorry!) The "burning fire" in Aragorn's hands is a reference to Anduril. ;p

Cheers!

* * *

He was standing atop a tall hill. He was gazing at the wide green lands below. He saw the sun, unshadowed, bursting forth from the willowy clouds, illuminating everything around him. 

He was breathless.

_So this was Meneltarma_, he mused to himself. _The island of Numenor…_

He turned around. And there it was: the Sea.

Nay, he had never seen the Sea before, though he was a kinsman of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth near Belfalas, his mother being the Prince's sister. Nor had he seen its wide, calm, cerulean waters lapping the golden sand, nor felt the cool sea breeze, nor heard the seagulls cry.

It was… _beautiful_.

_It was all beautiful._

Yet, much to his horror, he heard a shrill, cold laugh being carried by the eastern winds, echoing through the vales, filling his heart with dread.

And then everything changed.

The skies grew dark. Thunder and lightning tore the heavens asunder. The breeze became a gale. The gale became a storm, clouting the Sea.

And up from the angry Sea rose a long, dark shroud of darkness that threatened to overwhelm all.

The island groaned, trembled, and foundered under the great weight of the black waters.

And, as the waves washed the earth, he saw what seemed to be a tall white ship, its numerous banners tearing apart, its sharp stone prow crumbling, and its white tower collapsing as it sunk into oblivion.

_Minas Tirith…_

He, Faramir, last Captain of the City, had failed.

Alas that he, weak as he was, had to lead Gondor ere its fall! His father, the lord Denethor, had perhaps been right to wish that he had died in his brother Boromir's stead.

Boromir.

The best man of Gondor.

He who had fallen near the falls of Rauros.

_And I have failed Gondor._

Yet…

"Faramir! Faramir!"

Clearer and clearer did the voice come to him. He was being called.

And a single shaft of light from the West shone amid the gloom.

He turned to the source of the summons.

There, standing tall, majestic among mortal men, with bright Elven light resting upon his brow, and a burning fire in his hand, was a man he had never seen - but at once Faramir recognized the man.

Faramir bowed his head in reverence.

"My lord, the King…"

"Why linger you here?" was the King's response. He then held out his hand for the Steward's son to take. "Faramir, son of Denethor of Minas Tirith, come back to the light."

Yet Faramir stood immobile.

"I… cannot, my lord. I it was who led Gondor to her fall. There is no hope now.

"I was not strong enough to defend my country. My hands were too small, too frail. When the enemy issued forth from Morgul Vale in great numbers we were overrun. They won the passage across Anduin. I had failed.

"My father the lord Denethor was right. If only Boromir had lived. He was Gondor's finest man. If only he had led her army in battle. If only I had gone in his place. If only…"

It was too much. Faramir thought his heart would break.

He loved his brother, Boromir.

"Listen to me, Faramir!" said the King. "Indeed Boromir was a great man. Long had he held the enemy at bay, defending Osgiliath from their onslaught. And many orcs he had felled under the shadow of Amon Hen.

"Yet you are by no means lesser than him. You bore the task of defending Gondor as Captain after Boromir had gone. Yet you had to endure losing your brother and bear your father's disappointment. And you had not tried to take the Ring from Frodo, and that was where Boromir almost stumbled.

"I tell you this, Faramir son of Denethor: _you_ were Gondor's finest man. You fought on in spite of all your grief. Verily, you still would be Gondor's best if you are to come back to the world of waking.

"There is still hope. The battle at the Pelennor Fields has been won. The Shadow has been turned back; for a while, maybe, yet we may still believe that another morning shall come still, for as we speak Frodo and Sam are making their way to Orodruin to destroy the One Ring. All is not lost.

"Come back, Faramir. Gondor needs you still."

And there, in front of him, still stood the King, hand outstretched, waiting for him.

…

…_Suddenly Faramir stirred, and he opened his eyes, and he looked on Aragorn who bent over him; and a light of knowledge and love was kindled in his eyes, and he spoke softly._

"_My lord, you called me. I come. What does the King command?"_


End file.
